Possessive Doctor

But there’s still the mystery of her injury that I have to solve. Even if I won’t talk about the texting, I’m not dropping that.

She shows up a little early. I smile when I see her. She’s wearing the same outfit, dark yoga pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt. But I swear, this time she’s wearing a little makeup and her hair’s in a cute messy bun on her head thing. She looks really fucking sexy but I keep myself under control.

“Blood pressure looks good,” I say.

“Of course it does.”

“You have the best blood pressure I’ve ever seen.”

She laughs. “Obviously.”

I sit down and wheel myself over. I touch her leg, pressing in a few places, flexing it. “Pain?”

“Not really.”

“Good. How’s it been lately?”

“Not bad. Worst in the morning and when I stand and sit.”

“That won’t change for a while. Are you doing the exercises.”

She hesitates. “Mostly.”

“Amber.”

“I’m doing them. But they’re hard. I get tired.”

“Do as much as you can. So long as you do it every day, it’ll help.”

She nods. “I’m doing it every day. Just not every one.”

“Which moves give you trouble?”

“Squats, mostly. Some of the stretching I can’t do.”

“Oh, come on. You’re flexible.”

“Please. You know that’s a lie.”

“I bet I could split you in half right now.” My hand lingers on her leg and she meets my gaze. We both feel it in that moment but I pull my hand away, letting it pass. “Anyway, speaking of stretching, let’s go get to work.”

“Right. Sure.”

I help her down and we head into the gym. We go right at it, doing the same stretching routine as the last two times. I try not to think about her body, the way she’d feel if I sank my cock deep between her legs. I try not to picture her writhing on my bed, pressing her breasts together, begging me to get her off.

I try and fucking fail.

I move away from her for a second, gathering myself. “Everything okay?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah, fine.” I look back. “All good.”

“Doctor. Are you getting…” She trails off.

I raise an eyebrow. “I swear to god, don’t finish that sentence.”

We stare at each other than both burst out laughing.

The session goes easier from there. The tension is broken. We do the stretching, even laugh and make a few jokes. We’re both still thinking about the texts but it doesn’t feel like a weight anymore.

We do the exercises and end at the massage table. I touch her body all over, being a little more lenient with myself than I normally would with another client. Nothing anyone would notice, but my hands linger on her inner thigh a little longer, my fingers press close to her ass. When I’m finished, we end up sitting with our backs against the wall again.

She stretches her leg out. “I have to say. You’re really good with those hands.”

“Better be. I trained for this.”

She grins. “Good job.”

“Thanks. Glad I can be of service.”

“Seriously. For a day or so after our sessions, my leg feels a little better.”

“That’s a good sign. Means your body responds to the rehab.”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously. I bet if you keep doing those exercises, my estimate I gave you will seem conservative.”

She grins a little and does a shimmy. “That’s exciting.”

“Don’t let it get to your head. You still have a ton of work to do.”

“You really do know how to bring a girl down, don’t you?”

I laugh and shrug a little. “I guess so.”

We lapse into a comfortable silence. I should end it here but I don’t want to.

And besides, I have to ask again. I have to at least try.

“Look, Amber. Can I ask you something?”

“I know what you’re going to say,” she says, her voice low. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I can’t help it. I just… if something happened, you can tell me. I can help you.”

“Brent.” Her eyes are hard. “Stop.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m insane and there’s nothing wrong and you’re fine. I’ll drop it. I’ll stop texting you.”

She bites her lip. “I don’t want you to stop texting.”

I smirk a little bit. “I know. That was a test.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

“Just tell me you’re fine.”

She struggles up to her feet. This time, I help her, and she lets me. I get her cane and she looks up with a sad expression.

“Just… drop it. Okay? Just drop it.”

I want to take her hand and hold it. I want to tell her I can take care of her if she’d only give herself to me. I can help her and make things better.

But I know that’ll only scare her off. So instead, I just nod once.

“You can talk to me,” I say.

“I know.” She smiles then turns away. “Come on. Help me out of there. Last time I was too proud but this time I’m too sore.”